Multidisciplinary artist Noor Iskandar follows Rumi's footsteps

From the moment I saw Iran, I knew it’d be a country I’d be back to over and over again. It forms the basis of my spiritual sojourn and I’ve just returned from my fourth trip there. I first went to Iran in search of Mevlana Rumi. The 13th-century Persian poet and Sufi mystic has always inspired my writing and spirituality. I wanted to feel that connection to Persian culture and also experience the differing schools of Islam, namely Sunni and Shia. Before leaving for Iran, my dad was concerned and my friends joked about how Shia Muslims would stab me.

What I experienced was completely different. The first time I ever prayed in a Shia mosque, a man approached me to ask where I was from and gave me a packet of water. It’s the most heart-warming thing I’ve ever experienced. The Iranians are the most hospitable people I’ve met. Their history is rich, evident from the majestic architecture dotted with symbolic geometry and glistening mosques protected by hypnotic ceilings. Some of the most beautiful manifestations of Islamic architecture can be found here, such as at the Nasir al-Mulk Mosque in Shiraz, the Golestan Palace in Tehran, and the Jameh Mosque of Isfahan in the country’s former capital city.

I didn’t have a good first impression of Istanbul. I landed in Turkey after two magical weeks in Iran and found the people snobbish in comparison. I only warmed up to it during my second trip, where I forced myself to stay a full two weeks to give it a second chance. By the end of my trip, I thought, “this could be the best city on earth”. Maybe it was the literature I was carrying with me at the time. I was reading Elif Shafak’s The Architect’s Apprentice and it reminded me of all the changes the city has gone through. You only have to look at the Grand Bazaar to see the idiosyncrasies of the past interwoven with the present.

I think one of the most spiritually gratifying experiences was walking up to the Eyüp Sultan Mosque during the Maghrib call for prayers. I took a ferry from Fener after exploring the Jewish neighbourhood of Balat. In Kadıköy, I would take buses that travel along the coastline and stop by the pier to unwind over a glass of cay (Turkish tea). I am especially fond of the Kuzguncuk area where I saw fireworks go off in the distance. It’s where I tried my current favourite dessert, trileçe (an intensely sweet, milk-soaked cake) at Balkan Lokantasi. I spent my afternoons in beautiful kitapci (bookstore) cafés, such as the one on top of the Kadıköy dock overlooking Sultanahmet in the distance. 

There’s so much history in Konya, you can almost feel it in the air. It’s where Rumi lived and taught – and also where he passed away. Most people head down for the sema (whirling dervishes) ceremony but my attraction to it stems from its general aesthetics and the character of the space.

As the land of my forefathers, India is a place I’ve been to many times. But the country is so vast and diverse that I experience something new every time I’m there. Kashmir is a stunning city. It’s one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been to and what’s happening there breaks my heart. With political wounds cutting through her territory, coursing through Kashmir means that your feelings, uncertainties, and courage grow together. In the town of Leh in Ladakh at the top of a hill, you can sit and listen as Buddhist chimes and the adhan become one.

I also have a fondness for Amritsar. I visited the famous Golden Temple to see the Sikh. My great grandfather was Sikh before he converted to Islam. I’ve always wondered if there’s a shared history between these two religions. Sikh supplications (prayers) have so many parallels to Islam – and these nuances reinforce the commonalities between our cultures.

Malaysia is comforting. It feels like home. I find the Petronas Twin Towers so poetic. Every time we drive up to Kuala Lumpur, and the car draws nearer to the towers, I feel a magnetic pull towards it. It stands for so many things that I’m familiar with: Malaysian literature, music, Anuar Zain’s tracks playing during traffic jams, nasi kandar, the highways, the grittiness of Chow Kit and the fresh flowers in the alleyways off Petaling Street. The old railway and the causeway connecting Singapore and Malaysia carry all the romances (and quarrels) between our two borders.

I’m drawn to Indonesia’s immense history. I love the Nusantara, her darah (blood) and jiwa (soul). My mother’s side is Javanese, so I feel a connection to the country. I also collect batik. My most prized piece is from a secondhand shop at the Pasar Beringharjo flea in Yogyakarta. It’s in silver, and I’ve never seen batik so gorgeous. Yogyakarta is the spiritual heart of Indonesia, and it is an artist’s haven. Some of my antique books are also shipped and sourced from online retailers there.